Amortentia
by AnnieF1229
Summary: This is a look into what different characters smell when they encounter Amortentia.


One day I started to wonder what Amortentia smells like to different characters and this is the result.

Hermione Granger

Hermione breathed in deeply as the steam spiraled around the dungeon. She smelled freshly cut grass, new parchment, toothpaste, and something else that made her blush and leave her answer to Professor Slughorn's question incomplete, a first. She knew, of course, why the different things she was smelling appealed to her. Freshly cut grass reminded her both of summer holidays vacationing with her parents and at the Burrow with the Weasleys. It was subtly pungent and pleasant when it wafted upon a breeze when she was out enjoying lovely weather. It reminded her of summer and summer was her favorite season. New parchment represented school, learning. New parchment smelled crisp and meant that she would soon be returning to Hogwarts. She loved learning and expressing herself and it was through parchment that she conveyed her ideas best. At first the toothpaste smelled surprised her, but after a moment she realized that it was representative of home. Naturally, growing up with dentists as parents meant that she had beautiful teeth but she thought that the toothpaste was more of a comforting smell. You brushed your teeth at the beginning and the end of each day and she had grown up spending those days with the two people she loved most. As she got older and became friends with Harry and Ron the number of people she loved grew, as did the number of nights she spent away from her parents. Toothpaste was a way of remembering them in the moments when she was with her newly extended family.

The final thing that she smelled in the Amortentia was undoubtedly Ron, as embarrassing as that was for the level headed sixteen year old. Every person really has a distinct smell and this one was pure Ron. It was a mixture of soap, sweat, and chocolate and it was what she smelled whenever they were together, especially if he ruffled his hair. She was in love with her best friend, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was smart enough to know that if a boy liked you then he would pursue you and Ron had never given her a strong indication that he thought of her as more than his smart friend Hermione. She sighed heavily as she turned her focus back to the lesson in front of her.

Harry Potter

Harry liked the smell of the Amortentia; he could understand it was as powerful as Professor Slughorn suggested because he couldn't stop sniffing at the spiraling steam emanating around the dungeon. The first thing he smelled was treacle tart, his favorite dish since coming to Hogwarts. He remembered marveling at the sheer amount of food that appeared on the table during his first feast and how exciting it was to actually have a chance at seconds without Dudley around. Next, he smelled a broomstick. The first time he rode a broom had been second only in coming to Hogwarts in the list of his favorite memories. His first Quidditch game was special, not because of the way he caught the Snitch, but because he was truly confidant and happy for the first time ever. The last smell, something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow, was the only smell which confused him but he liked it just the same. It was comforting and curious at the same time. He didn't have time to linger on identifying it; however, as Professor Slughorn was carrying on with his lesson and had slammed the cover shut on the Amortentia.

Ron Weasley

Ron peered warily at the Amortentia sitting perfectly harmless on the tabletop as if it was going to attack at any moment. Hermione had just finished describing its powers and what it smelled like for her and he was nervous that he might be asked to provide that same answer himself; however, Professor Slughorn returned to the other potions and Ron was off the hook. He cast a furtive look at Harry and Hermione before breathing in deeply. It was strange to smell so many things mixed into one. Chocolate... the air after it rains...a Quaffle...and...the perfume he got Hermione for Christmas the year before. He blushed at the realization and chanced another glance around to make sure no one had noticed. He wasn't fourteen anymore so it was no use pretending that he didn't have feelings for Hermione. He had always thought of her as a friend of course, but he didn't think of her like a sister like Harry did, he never had. There was really no specific point in time that he could remember when his feelings changed, overall it was more gradual.

He loved that she wore his perfume everyday, however, because he knew that every time she put it on she would have to think of him. He had picked out the perfume himself on his family's shopping trip to Diagon Alley, and although the sales witch tried to help him by pointing out perfumes which attracted men or that enhanced ones spellcasting abilities, he ultimately sniffed a few bottles and bought the one which smelled best to him. He was careful enough to slip the bottle inside its wrapped package into his coat pocket before Fred and George saw it and on Christmas morning when Hermione said she loved it and called it unusual he replied nonchalantly but on the inside he felt really pleased with himself.

Severus Snape

It was May 26th and that was why Severus Snape found himself sitting alone in his old classroom in the dungeons with a steaming potion atop the table in front of him. Every year on May 26th he brewed this particular potion as a way of remembering the girl that he lost forever on the 26th of May in their fifth year. As he stirred the potion he wondered, as he always did, why he had snapped and called her a Mudblood on that horrible day. She was his best friend and he had let the pain of humiliation take over his senses and replace them all with rage. He regretted it each day after and when she had been killed by the Dark Lord the pain he felt had almost killed him as well. He had had no reason left to live, and yet, when Dumbledore explained that her son survived and had Lily's exact eyes he knew that he would at last have a second chance at an apology by helping to keep the boy alive.

As he finished the Amortentia he breathed it in and smelled the things that were just as familiar now as they had been twenty years ago: strawberries, old books, and of course, lilies. As he smelled them he remembered the girl who spent time in the library doing her homework and whose hair always smelled faintly of strawberries. Even when they were little Lily Evans had loved reading old books. He smiled slightly remembering a day when she had brought one to him, a Muggle novel called Great Expectations, and explained that it had belonged to her great grandmother and wasn't it magical to hold and read the same book that had been read by so many people since its publication? Ever since he had been on the lookout for older books, cherishing the smiles and hugs he received as he gave them to her, and now his bookshelves were crowded with unread books he couldn't seem to stop collecting. The strawberry smell was from her favorite Muggle shampoo which she brought with her to Hogwarts practically by the case full. He had loved that her hair smelled of the fruit its color so closely resembled, but he had often teased her about being a strawberry head instead of a carrot top.

And lilies. He couldn't see a lily without thinking about the one person he had ever loved. It sounds so cliched, but she really was like a lily-beautiful and strong. Stronger than he had been of course. He didn't keep any of them in his ingredient cupboard, even though his supplies were incomplete and lessons limited without them, because he couldn't bear to see the box labeled with her name lying haphazardly on the shelf next to doxie eggs. He wiped a solitary tear from his cheek and with one last sniff and a quick wave of his wand the potion was gone, as was Lily until the next year.

Molly Weasley

She was cleaning the twins' room, a task that was daunting to say the least, when she accidentally tipped over one of the many bottles on Fred's bureau with her elbow. She rolled her eyes in exasperation as she bent down to siphon it up with her wand when she suddenly realized that it smelled amazing. All at once it smelled like oil, soapy water, and rust? She puzzled at the potion's strange yet pleasant odor as she continued to breathe it in. The oily smell, she realized, reminded her of Arthur when he would come in from the shed after tinkering with his Muggle spark plugs. The image of him unsuccessfully scrubbing his hands in the sink for supper made her smile to herself. She was incredibly blessed to have a wonderful husband whom she had loved since her years at Hogwarts. The soapy water made her think of doing dishes in their kitchen sink. She would stand at the sink doing dishes and watch her children as they played outside. Oftentimes, she would lose track of time and the task before her as she watched them playing Quidditch together until they descended upon her for lunch and she would snap out of her revelry.

She knew that the last thing she smelled was rust and it made her think of the cauldrons piled around the Burrow's door. They had been there for years and begun to rust long ago, but she didn't feel the need to get rid of them because they were a Burrow staple. When she thought of them she thought about how whenever she laid eyes on them stacked outside she knew that she was home. She was getting emotional thinking about her loved ones; worrying about them and wondering where they would all be in a year. She shook her head as she cleaned up the last of the spill. Leave it to her twins to leave Amortentia sitting around.

Albus Dumbledore

As he watched Harry leave his office he realized why it was difficult for the boy to understand what he kept telling him about the lasting power of love. Raised by his uncaring aunt and uncle, he was a shell of a little boy during his first few days at Hogwarts. He quickly found his strive, however, and Dumbledore smiled to himself as he remembered a younger Harry walking through the halls with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. Up to mischief, just like his father used to be during his time at Hogwarts. Harry was growing up and growing into a destiny that he couldn't fully understand yet. It was a feeling that Dumbledore himself was most familiar with. As a young man he had become impassioned and ultimately reckless at the thought of power and here was Harry resisting the greatness which was thrust upon him at every available moment. He pulled the stopper out of the small bottle kept in his desk drawer and allowed himself to indulge in love's power.

All it had taken for him to lose sight of right and wrong at the age of seventeen was a boy with a dream. He had clung to Gellert's words because they were spoken so passionately. Everything else in his life was planned out based on responsibility and familial obligation, but each night when he heard the owl tapping on his window he rushed through the words spelled out in front of him. He would trace the words with his finger and try to replicate Gellert's delicate strokes. And as he sat there in the dim candlelight he marveled at the way the smell of parchment enveloped him, ensnaring his senses. Even now, whenever he received an owl his breathe would catch in his throat for a second before remembering that Gellert is in Nuremgard and unable to communicate with anyone outside the walls of his prison. Receiving letters from Gellert had always filled him with a sense of hope largely missing from his life since his mother's death.

His mother. He didn't allow himself to think of his mother often after her death because it only brought pain. Pain that she was gone. Pain that he was now the head of his family at seventeen. Pain that he'd never get to taste her cinnamon bread again. It seemed silly that when he remembered his mother one of the first things he thought of was a dessert, but when he was a little boy he used to love watching her make the sweet, cinnamony bread the Muggle way. She would knead the dough gently while sprinkling it with flour and as she did so she'd hum her favorite song. As it cooled on the countertop he and Aberforth would fight over who would get the biggest piece until she'd come over and remind them that no one would be getting cinnamon bread until after dinner, but she'd always slip them each a little piece with a wink. The cinnamon smell swirling around him now was whimsical and sad at the same time.

As he was coming back to his senses he registered one final smell. Unlike the chalkiness of the parchment and the warm sweetness of the cinnamon; this scent was cool and crisp. He knew it immediately as he smelled it everyday; it was the cool breeze which swept through Hogwarts and seemed to cling to each cobblestone. Hogwarts had been his home for decades and he loved each student who had passed through its doors and each moment which he experienced within its walls. The cool breeze reminded him of children's laughter wafting from the Great Hall, long nighttime strolls through the castle trying to clear his mind, and of Hogwarts' intrinsic magic which has been experienced by all who come here to study. He shook his head sadly at the power that this one simple potion had over him knowing it presented the danger of drowning in one's past. He put the stopper back in the vial of Amortentia he liked to keep for dark winter nights, put it back on its shelf, and closed the press where he kept his Pensieve.


End file.
